At the far end of the passage, where the lamp stood slightly tilted on the floor, Dr. Laurier was bending over the thin Spanish blade to examine it For some reason, his prim pince-nez and iron grey hair and hollowed cheeks looked grotesque above the sports costume, like a clergyman's head on a clown. He was trembling. He straightened up, with a flash of pince-nez, when he saw Martin with the other cup-hilt
"Captain Drake!'' he said eagerly. "Do you fence?"
"Yes. Most rapier-collectors do."
"Ah!" said Dr. Hugh Laurier.
He advanced slowly, silhouetted against the eye of the lantern, its white glow spreading round and behind him. Turning his body sideways, he bent his knees tentatively and swept out the still-sharp point in insinuating challenge. His wrist turned in that short semi-circular movement, engage and disengage, by which fencers feel, as though by antennae, for an opening.
Insinuating, insinuating, moving forward..
Martin, without any sense of incongruity in time or place, instantly crossed points.
All of them, now, were far from normal.
"This is good," Ricky threw at Martin. "Give him hell, old boy!"
"Take your pleasure, gentlemen!" said Stannard. "Stop it!" cried Ruth.